Another Colour
by liondancer17
Summary: 2p America ends up in the 1p world, without the rest of the nation's knowledge. Now the nations must discover the change and bring their real America back, before the impostor executes his plan for a complete and total bloodbath, all while under the nations' nose. Rated for lots of blood and death.
1. Chapter 1

A/N

Why yes, I'm trying again. The last time it was rushed, so this time I'm actually going to try and write it. Enjoy my C&P description of 2p Italy and America:

I need to explain my headcanon for 2p America and Italy.

Those guys are kind of interpreted differently by me. In my opinion, it's their very core personality that is changed, not just little things, like America being an omnivore, and 2p America being a vegetarian. (Which I still don't get, by the way, and it kind of weirds me out) No, there's much more to it than that. Let's take America. His core trait is his simple love for the world. He is naive, but he cares more about others than himself. 2p America...doesn't reflect the opposite. By most of the fandom's standards, he is portrayed as just a selfish-jerk-douchebag-jock character. That is indeed the opposite, but guys, think about it. America is open and kind, he would never use others for his own end, and even if he did, he would regret it and apologize all the time. He is naive, he is compassionate, but most of all, he doesn't manipulate people. He is the "hero", not the "villain". In _my_ interpretation, 2p America is very different. He is a master manipulator, a very smart, cold man. He dresses like that to fool people into thinking that he is a nice guy, which also explains the vegetarianism. The baseball bat is just something that he uses as a last resort. It's his favorite weapon, just because he is a sadist, and he likes the feeling of heads rolling against his bat. Italy is his partner in crime, they are best buds because they have the same goal, manipulation, and the ultimate genocide of the world, when they have them all eating out of their hands.

That's my interpretation, anyway.

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(2p America's POV)

Too easy

It was all way, way too easy.

They were all idiots, all of them. Of course, what could one expect from a world where blood was king? They were all animals, driven by a desire for death and destruction. He almost wanted to laugh at it all. What _idiots_! Didn't they _understand?_ It was way too easy, frustratingly so.

England was definitely his favourite pawn, and his ace card. Though the nutcase was unpredictable and wild, America could always tame him with a few simple words. 'I love you' usually worked, and it would make the nutcase melt into whatever America wanted him to be, whether it was a complete psychopath who would kill humans for fun, or a cold, calculating partner who would work with him to pick off the other threats.

But that was the problem...it was _too easy._ Who, but Feliciano, could match his intellect and planning abilities? Not even Ivan could do that. No, Alfred's plans had worked_ all too well_. Not even Mattie, his own brother, knew about who he really was. Nah, he was too busy managing the asylum, and paying hunter with all of the humans out there. As far as Mattie was concerned, Alfred was just a jerk jock, which was perfect by Alfred's standards.

It had been fun, though, he had to give the Russian that. Their fight had lasted a_ long-ass_ time. Almost the entire day. Ultimately, though, getting the Russian's head detached from his neck was all too easy, though that could also have been due to the fact that most of his face was ripped away, using the nails on Alfred's bat. There wasn't even enough_ fucking blood_ in him, which was extremely disappointing. Alfred had developed a taste for blood, it was sweet to him, and he loved the feeling of blood splattering on his skin. That wasn't to say that Ivan's death had been bloodless, but there just wasn't enough of it! And after all the wasted time and excitement he had felt over finally getting to kill Ivan...it was rather underwhelming, he had thought that he would _at least_ walk away half-dead.

Alfred frowned in frustration. Humans...they never lasted more than a few minutes. Lighting a cigarette, Alfred shut his eyes. There had to be some way...something he could do to get just a little excitement in his life.

"Aaaaaaaaaaalllffiiiiiiie~!" A voice chimed. Alfred felt his jaw tighten in frustration, but he felt a natural smile slip onto his face. He sat up on his bed, watching the door open. Arthur walked in, smiling widely at him, carrying a tray of cupcakes. He walked in and sat next to Alfred, nestling against Alfred's chest. Alfred fell into his natural role, absently playing with the Brit's powder-white hair.

"Hello, my little Arthur." Alfred purred into the Brit's ear._ Too easy, still way too easy._ Sometimes, he considered killing Arthur, just to alleviate some boredom, but he always decided against it. Arthur had magic, something Alfred could use to give himself some entertainment. Besides, it was still fun to manipulate the nutcase like this, and he still kept the Brit as a last resort for murder. Not like there was a challenge he would _need_ the Brit for, but still, it was best to have an ace up your sleeve.

"Alfie, I heard you had a wittle problem." Arthur said, looking up at Alfred with wide, blue-pink puppy eyes. Alfred lent down and kissed Arthur's forehead, causing the Brit to laugh and shove him back.

"Nooooooooo, let me talk! I heard that you were all bored and stuffs...well, I have a great idea!" Arthur said, smiling brightly up at Alfred. That caught the American's attention. Alfred tilted his head, still playing his role. He had to be attentive, he had to be cute, he had to be caring and loving.

He kind of wondered how much blood Arthur had.

"What is it, my little Arthur?" Alfred asked. Arthur grinned cheerfully at him.

"There's another world that I can bring you to. You have to go through Iceland's volcano, Hekla, but that will be no problem, since I made his cupcakes this morning~!" Arthur giggled, gesturing to the sweets. "Just jump right in~! It's easy~!"

Alfred blinked.

"You sure?" he asked. Arthur nodded cheerfully, laying against Alfred's chest.

"Yep~! Are you proud of me, Alfie?" Arthur asked. Alfred heard the desperation in the madman's voice, and he responded accordingly.

"Of course, my little Arthur. I always am."

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A/N Please review~!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N

Oh my God, before I even start, I have to tell you something. The playlist I listened to while writing this is so hilarious. I'm sitting here and listening to "A True, True Friend" while writing this. Oh my God, I am so messed up. Wait, I have to stop laughing first. There we go, much better.

Anyways, have a little warning. This story can get pretty damn dark.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

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(2p!Alfred's POV)

"A-Al? Are you okay?" a soft voice asked. The American laid there, completely still. His immediate instinct was to lash out and attack whatever it was that was near him, but he didn't. He lay there, still and silent, listening and observing.

The last thing he remembered was using Arthur's idea. The nutcase had suggested that he use dark magic to get through to the Other World, a place that the Brit had said was opposite of their own world. Alfred had played around with the idea for a few days, before deciding to go along with it. Internally weighing the consequences with himself, he had decided that it would be good to break the monotony by trying it. It was an idiotic thing to do, of course, but Alfred decided that, if he died, it would be more interesting to go in a _fucking volcano_ that to die of government collapse. So he allowed himself to be dragged there by Arthur, who began the ritual. He made sure to bring his favorite bat, of course, just in case the Brit decided to snap on him.

The ritual itself was rather fascinating to watch. The Brit started by drawing spell circles on the fertile soil, then biting his finger and drawing several runes made out of blood. He knotted a small lock of his powder-white hair in the center, soaking it in his blood, before starting to chant in another language. Alfred had watched as a pulse of power shook from the volcano, clearly reacting to the magic that the Brit was doing. Shadows had crawled from the Brit's blood-circle, which burned black with power, and wrapped around the American's body. Arthur had warned him about this, of course. He had clarified that the worst thing to do was struggle. So, against Alfred's immediate instincts, he forced his body to relax, and he was pulled under.

The last thing he had heard before fading away was Arthur cheerfully telling him to write.

_Fucking nutcase..._

Alfred's entire body tensed a little when he felt the movement in the air around him as the owner of the soft voice approached. His mind went into autopilot. The owner of the voice had soft, tentative steps, almost feminine The voice itself indicated otherwise, however. It was the exact same pitch as Alfred's, just not spoken with as much volume. It was Matthew, most likely. That didn't match his personality, however. Matthew always walked with a confident stride, and his voice was just as soft, but not as hesitant as the way this Matthew spoke. That would indicate one of two things: either Arthur's ritual had worked, or Alfred had encountered someone with the ability to mimic Matthew's pitch exactly. In most cases, Alfred would say that the latter of the two options was most likely. However, given the circumstances, it would seem more plausible to go with the former.

Alfred had to fight down a smile. He forced his entire body to relax, and instead let his lips open slightly, just a small, slow fraction, to give the illusion of being unconscious more credibility. It was time to observe.

Truthfully, this was the stage in the game Alfred enjoyed the most. It was a simple plan, with only a few little stages. However, this time, Alfred decided to give it a little kick-start. It was a small change, added in at the last second, just for an extra kick.

"Alfred...Alfred please wake up, please...I want to see my brother smile again..." Matthew said again. Alfred kept his face relaxed. This America was cheerful, apparently. Judging by the concern in Matthew's voice, he was most likely close to his family. Perhaps feigning ignorance would be a good option. It would provide Alfred with a way to gather more information on his new personality, and he was certain enough that he had the skills necessary to provide just the perfect level of false ignorance, as well as making sure to seem as certain enough in his memory to seem inconspicuous.

_Oh, this was going to be so fucking fun! _Alfred had to suppress a shudder of excitement. The looks on their faces when he killed them..._oh yes, _it was going to be so _fucking fun!_

Very, very slowly, Alfred let his eyes flutter open. Looming over him was the worried face of someone who closely resembled, but wasn't quite, Matthew. His eyes were far too wide and gentle, with not a hint of the darkness that Alfred had become accustomed to. Everything about his face was too soft and too kind, unlike the guard of the insane asylum that Alfred knew. His hair also fell freely around his face, not tied back in a ponytail, and a pair of glasses sat on the bridge of his nose.

"Hey bro." Alfred said softly. Matthew's eyes widened, and he collapsed on Alfred, hugging the American tight against his chest. Alfred took the temporary distraction as an opportunity to observe his surroundings.

Alfred noticed that he himself was wearing glasses, which was an odd change, but not unwelcome. He was used to sunglasses, so it made no difference to him. What _was_ odd was his skin colour. Alfred's skin was suddenly pale, which Alfred didn't really like. Pale skin was easier to see in the dark. He also noticed that a lock of blonde hair had fallen in his eyes as well. So he was a blonde, and pale. Strange, but he could get used to it. He supposed it wasn't too much of a handicap, considering that Arthur wore neon colours, yet he was always able to get away with murder and...cannibalism.

There were two other figures in the doorway. Alfred made eye-contact, careful to keep his face fixed in an expression of wonder and confusion.

They were clearly France and England, though, again, different. France now had pale skin, and he was clean-shaven, though with hints of stubble still residing on his chin. He looked much more...happy, the American supposed. He was holding England's hand tight in his own, wearing an expression of worry that the American had never seen on the normally apathetic Frenchman's face. England looked particularly off, with a calm, serious, though hopeful expression. His eyes were green, and they lacked any hint of insanity. He wore subdued colours, which was both amusing and a stark change to Alfred. This one looked particularly fun to toy with. Just by the way he was looking at Alfred, the American could tell that he was attached to the American. So _this _was supposed to be his father-figure, _this _was his _"_brother"'s love.

**_It was going to be so, so much fucking fun to watch the look on England's face as he teared his skin away, piece by piece, and tear his chest open with something painful and rusty, watching the blood turn Alfred's new pale skin_ _red._**

Alfred held Matthew closer against his chest, smiling at the Brit and French pair, holding out his arms.

His smile was so genuine that it nearly broke his family's heart.

"Why are you guys so far away? Come over here! I want a hug!"

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A/N Please review~! I already have plans for the next chappie~!


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